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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167108">Lipstick</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glitch (TV 2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:08:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Raf watches Charlie marvel at TV.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raf/Charlie Thompson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lipstick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Glitch, RuPaul’s Drag Race, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>“—How the hell you going to love somebody else?”</i> the familiar voice echoes through the tiny bedroom, followed up by the usual, <i>“Can I get an amen?”</i></p><p>Charlie murmurs, “Amen,” like a prayer. It’s taken a season and a half of binge watching the same old reruns Raf’s seen a hundred times, but Charlie’s finally catching on to the same few phrases that are sprinkled throughout nearly every episode. On the cracked television perched over on the dresser, the view switches to the stage, and the queens spill back out onto the runway. The droning club beat rolls in, the queens dancing along. Charlie stays hunched over the edge of the bed, staring for all he’s worth.</p><p>Lounged against the headboard, half asleep, Raf mumbles, “Have you been watching this whole time?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Charlie breathes. That’s probably <i>all</i> he’s been doing: breathing and watching. He hasn’t budged since Raf last dozed off. At least it’s a good view, even from behind, even bent over—the trim expanse of Charlie’s toned back still a little flushed and slick with old sweat. His blond-brown hair’s a tad ruffled, and he’s made no attempt to comb it back up. He watches the credits roll like they’re every bit as interesting as the main event. </p><p>“It’s amazing,” Charlie mutters, voice reverent. Raf nods, even though Charlie’s not looking to see it.</p><p>“Yeah. A lot of people think it’s easy, just throwing on a dress, but the full transformation’s a lot of hard work.”</p><p>“No, I mean... that they can do this... that you can <i>watch</i> this... the colour’s so bright...”</p><p>Raf laughs. Of course even the colour would baffle Charlie: a vivid spectrum, not just the old blurry black and white. Raf pushes up onto his elbows, then onto his knees, and crawls across the dishevelled mattress. There are <i>so many things</i> amazing about the show, the whole channel—it’s not perfect yet, but it’s still so far from where they used to be. Charlie views it like an awe-struck child, stuck in the closet in the smallest, most backwater, homophobic cesspool Raf can imagine. He could point out all the little individual rights and recognitions that were so hard won and all the ways they’re still unequal, but instead he wraps his arms around Charlie’s shoulders and hums against the back of Charlie’s neck, “You’re so cute.” He pecks the back of Charlie’s ear, and Charlie squirms in his grip, clearly smiling.</p><p>“You ever think about doing drag?” Raf muses, just out of sheer curiosity. Sometimes it feels like Charlie’s barely even thought about daring to kiss another man, even though other times it seems like he’s been dying too for ages.</p><p>Charlie shakes his head and answers, not offended but simple, “No.” But he peeks over his shoulder to check, “Why... do you want...?”</p><p>“Nah, s’fine. You’re pretty enough as a boy.” He presses another kiss against Charlie’s cheek.</p><p>Charlie hesitates, like he often seems to before doing something overtly, undeniably <i>gay</i>, and then he’s turning to give Raf a proper kiss, full on the lips, soft and sweet and fumbling but perfect. Raf chases the kiss until Charlie pulls back, pulling free so he can turn around. Then he’s facing Raf, and Raf’s searching for the remote, because the next episode’s starting, and he knows Charlie won’t want to miss it.</p><p>He’s barely finished by the time Charlie’s got him sprawled back across the bed, culminating in something glorious and <i>real.</i></p>
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